


Cut Your Teeth

by Showtime (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chicago Blackhawks, Graphic blood descriptions, He's just a store clerk, Other, Patrick doesn't play in the NHL, Vampires, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Showtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"It's better to walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light."</em>
</p><p>-Oswald Cobblepot, Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm bad, I disappear and then come back with a new WIP.
> 
> But I'm ACTUALLY, ACTIVELY working on this one so, fortnightly updates I should think, with any luck.

Patrick hurried down the dark winter streets of Chicago, eyes flicking side to side almost constantly as he checked for danger. Snow had settled during the day, and fat flakes were gently drifting down through the air, numbing the world even further. Sound seemed like a foreign concept, and Patrick realised he wouldn’t be able to rely on his hearing.

His hands shook in his pockets as he realised that he’d left coming home from work much too late.

A quick glance down the street said that not even the cab drivers were chancing anything tonight, nor were the working girls that usually dotted the dark streets at 3am. No homeless people were seeking shelter from the cold, queuing for hours outside of the hostels that Patrick passed, nor were the addicts out, scratching at their bodies, peering down the alleys for a dealer.

Patrick was alone, in the pitch black, at 3am, and about an hour’s walk from home.

_Why did I take that second fucking shift?_

Patrick scowled at his boss mentally as he hurried, doing his best to keep in the murky yellow glow of the street lights, checking behind him constantly. _Next time he tries to guilt trip me into working a double shift; I’m flipping him off and jumping in the first taxi to pull up_.

The sound of a trash can clattering to the ground had Patrick jumping off the ground, and he spun around, only to see a cat licking its paw before it turned its head to stare at Patrick.

The blond male let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gave me a scare there, puss.”

“Did it now?”

Patrick froze.

The voice was so close, as though the person speaking were directly behind him, but something in Patrick’s head told him that the speaker was to the side and in front, down the side alley that lay about 7 strides away.

“Who are you?” It was the first thing that came out of Patrick’s mouth, and he winced at how scared his voice sounded, shaking on the cold winter’s air. He watched his words disappear, his breath floating away on the wind.

Silence came back to him, and the feeling that he was in danger started coursing through Patrick’s veins. His mind was screaming at him to run, to get as far as he could before this stranger stepped forward – maybe he could find someone to help him.

 _Like that’ll ever happen. It’s the harvest_.

Patrick’s entire body shook as a figure stepped out of the alley, doused in the shadow of the night. The only thing to be seen were two glowing white circles where the eyes sat on their face.

Patrick turned and bolted.

Fear gripped his gut, making him feel sick as it mixed with the adrenaline coursing around his body. His feet slipped on black ice, but still he kept going, arms pumping.

 _Thank fuck, I never missed cardio day_.

His foot found a stray patch of black ice once again, and Patrick ended up on the ground, crying out at a jarring heat flaring up his wrist. He lay still for a moment, winded as he rolled over to stare at the sky.

The sight of someone stalking towards him from the corner of his eyes – this silhouette was smaller than the one before – had more adrenaline pouring from his adrenal gland, and he forced himself to his feet, breaking out into another sprint.

His breath was harsh, lungs burning against the cold air that Patrick was so desperately trying to force into his lungs – _fuck it, why’d they never teach you how to defend yourself against this shit back in high school_ – and he stumbled, his pace starting to slow.

The muscles in his legs were aching, begging for him to stop running.

Shadowed hands reached for him, and he yelled out, pitching to the right and rolling across the ground. He slammed into a wall, the momentum from his running carrying him across the ground, and he had to inhale as much breath as he could.

“They always taste so much better with adrenaline.”

“Oh, I disagreeeeeeee. The taste of fear is much better, and this meal is ripe with it.”

Patrick closed his eyes tightly as four shadows surrounded him.

“Please just... just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, please. I need to help support my family and-” Patrick yelled out as his head was yanked backwards, hair ripping from the roots as the hand curled tightly in his locks.

“Listen to him plead for his life. I told you he’d be a pleader.”

A single tear escaped down Patrick’s face as the _vampyr_ threw him across the alley. He came to a stop in the middle of the circle of the group, and Patrick knew it was it.

Sharp stones dug into his spine as he forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at the ring leader of the small group that surrounded him. If there was any chance he was going to survive this, he was hiring a hunter.

The ring-leader, and the one that had stopped him on his walk, judging from his height, gave a sickly-sweet smile down at Patrick.

 _6 foot 3, 220-225lbs. Short to medium brown hair. Too-white, too-perfect teeth, square. Soft blue eyes_.

Soft blue eyes that had a secondary ring of red surrounding the soft blue.

“Do the honors, David.”

“He’s mine. Get your own.”

The other three _vampyr_ stood where they were for a moment before they stalked off down the alley, disappearing from view.

Fear started twisting in Patrick’s gut once more, and he made the feeble attempt to shuffle away, only succeeding in getting himself stuck further down the alley, trapped between the _vampyr_ in front of him and the seven foot wall behind him.

“SOMEBODY HE-”

A hand was over his mouth and Patrick felt his spine slam into the brick wall. A muffled scream escaped his throat, only to be trapped by the hand covering it. Patrick’s eyes widened as they slipped sideways, staring at the _vampyr_ , nosing across his neck. The _vampyr_ – _David_ , Patrick tried to remind himself – used his spare hand to tug Patrick’s scarf off, throwing it to the ground.

Tears welled up as Patrick thought of his family, back in New York. His sisters, his parents, his grandparents. He thought about the guys he played ice hockey with during hockey season - they were all prospects for the Buffalo Sabres – god, Patrick and his teammates had been so close to joining the NHL, to making a name for themselves.

“Now hold still. This is going to hurt a lot.”

Sharpened teeth bit hard into Patrick’s neck, and he managed a gurgled scream in a half-hearted attempt to get help from _anyone_ before he felt his body go limp.

Venom was coursing around his body, paralysing him, making him defenceless – that was a new trick the _vampyr_ had perfected after hunters would stab them in the back while they fed on them.

The pain was something unimaginable. Each serrated tooth that was planted in his neck felt like a red hot knife, but the venom was chilling his body, making his body feel like molten ice were coursing through his veins. The blood leaving his body was nothing but a hot rush of pain, and Patrick tried to gasp air into his lungs, only to feel blood bubble through his bronchus system.

Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down his face as the _vampyr_ yanked away, taking some of Patrick’s neck with him.

The venom loosened its hold on him, but Patrick still couldn’t move. His body felt like a bullet trying to move through jelly as he slowly dropped to the ground – or maybe that was just the hold the venom had on his mind. He could only lie there, wheezing as the _vampyr_ disappeared, jumping from the ground to the rooftops above, leaving Patrick to bleed out.

Oh, bleeding out.

Patrick could feel nothing but pain in his neck, the exposed nerves reacting violently to the cold air surrounding him.

The soft _sizzle_ of his blood dripping onto the snow beneath him was the only thing he could hear, and Patrick let his eyes close. The drips were slow; Patrick counted two a minute – the venom in his veins would slow it down.

This was it; this was how he was supposed to die. He was meant to become another statistic, another human just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fourteen. _Sizzle_. Fifteen. _Sizzle_. Sixteen. _Sizzle_. Seve-

“PATRICK! I FOUND HIM!”

“Fuck, fuck, Jon, grab Brent.”

“Shit.”

Patrick forced his heavy eye-lids open, staring at the head of a man he could barely see.

“Let Abby know we’ll be on our way, and it’s a Red 5 emergency.”

“Patrick, you call- fuck.”

A brown hair man walked into Patrick’s line of vision, and he stared up at the man. He knelt down, gently shifting Patrick’s hair away from the wound. Patrick blinked a weak thank you.

He had medium-short brown hair, and soft blue eyes, that looked almost silvery grey. A soft brush of dark stubble was dusted around pale pink lips, so pale that Patrick had to blink a few times to see where his lips ended and white skin began.

“One for yes, two for no.”

Patrick blinked once.

“ _Vampyr?”_

Blink.

“Was it a tall man, red circling around their irises?”

Blink.

“Russian?”

Blink. Blink.

“David?”

Patrick hesitated, his mind fuzzing over.

“Was his name David?”

Blink.

The man glanced back at the other men Patrick knew were standing there, watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Patrick gave another gurgled scream as the man’s teeth dug into his neck, surrounding the gaping hole already there.

The venom coursed round his body once more, and Patrick finally blacked out, letting out a small prayer as he did.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of beeping cut through Patrick’s hearing, and he flinched. It was too loud, too close to his ears, sending a resounding thump through his head, making him groan in pain. Cold seeped around his body, making his bones ache. It took him a moment to realise the metal he was laying on was just as cold, and it made his flesh crawl.   
  
“He’s lost so much blood, Sharpy, I swear if you drank-”  
  
“All I did was give him venom to keep him going, Abs.” That was the man who had spoken to him before... before what? Patrick tried to peer through his memories, but it was like he was looking through mud, like he was trying to hear from underwater.  
  
The memory faded away, and Patrick couldn’t remember what he was trying to think about.  
  
“Abby, is there any way he’s going to survive this?”  
  
Who was that speaking? His voice sounded familiar, and Patrick struggled to go through his muddy thoughts.  
  
Jon!  
  
Jon was his name – no wait, what was his name again?  
  
Patrick felt his lips pull down into a frown as the name slipped away from his consciousness, settling on the tip of his tongue.  
  
“It’s a struggle, but I might have managed to stabilise him for now. Get me some more A-class venom and Seabs, sweetie, go grab me some adrenaline.”  
  
The first voice was back again, cutting across the woman’s tones. “You’re going to restart his heart?”  
  
“It might be the only way to get the venom through his whole body, Sharpy.”  
  
Silence filled the room – no, no Patrick could hear someone gently moving what sounded like bags around. He could smell the soft irony tang of blood, and he was disturbed to find his mouth watering.  
  
“Jon, venom, ASAP, if you wouldn’t mind!”  
  
“A-class venom is hard to get, and you don’t have much of it-”  
  
“Then just bring me a B-class bag, I can mix it with some of Sharpy’s-”  
  
“Why mine?!”  
  
“You’re the one that started changing him, your venom will speed the process up.”  
  
The sound of a man groaning reverberated through Patrick’s head, and he groaned in response.  
  
The man collecting the venom – _Jacob? No, that definitely wasn’t right_ – spoke up again. “You’re aware he’s making noise, right?”  
  
“His heart’s beating, Jon, but not for long at this rate.”  
  
There was the sound of a puncture – like a needle had just been pressed through what sounded like thick plastic and then Sha- Shaun? groaned.  
  
“Never make me do that again.”  
  
“Next time don’t bring a half-dead human to me, Sharpy.”  
  
The name was gone from Patrick’s mind almost as soon as it was said.   
  
“Okay, I need that adrenaline, _now_ , he’s going into VD.”  
  
Patrick felt the sharp prick of something slipping through the skin of his chest, then something was burning, and he thrashed out. He screamed a little, shaking, only to have three – no, _four_ – sets of hands hold him down.  
  
There was someone on each of his limbs, and he felt a soft pair of hands hold onto his head, then there was something soft underneath his head. He might have smiled in the vague direction of the person who had put it there, but he was distracted with the _burning_ that was coursing through his body, the burning that got worse with each and every heart beat.  
  
Another scream ripped out of his throat, and one of his feet got free.  
  
Patrick was vaguely aware of the sound of someone flying backwards, falling into something... metallic from the sound of it hitting the floor, and then all of a sudden he was too hot, and he couldn’t breathe.  
  
His back arched, and he gasped, trying to get air in his lungs. It felt too cold, and he exhaled as quickly as he could, crying out as he realised he had to breathe in again.  
  
“Oxygen!”  
  
This voice Patrick _definitely_ hadn’t heard before, but he didn’t care about who it was any more. A mask was put over his face, and he tried to struggle, kicking out before his free leg was pinned back down again.  
  
“C-Cold!”  
  
“Listen to me, Patrick! I know that it’s cold; I know it’s really cold, but you have to breathe it in, or you’re going to die. You have to keep breathing; as long as there is breath in you, you’ve gotta fight, do you hear me?”  
  
Patrick whined, and hot tears welled up in his eyes, slowly streaking down the sides of his face as he struggled.  
  
He felt weak; he was too weak. The heat, the cold, and the pain were all too much, and exhaustion was tagging on his consciousness.  
  
“Abby, defib!”  
  
“Someone get his shirt off!”  
  
Cold, clammy hands ripped his shirt off, as though it were nothing, and then there was something cold on his chest.  
  
“Power!”  
  
The soft thrum of electricity was in Patrick’s head, and then there was a sharp jab to his chest as it was unloaded into him. He screamed behind the oxygen mask, trying to fight them off. Thankfully, the pads were taken off his chest, and there was a collective breath.  
  
“Alright, we just have to keep him steady-”  
  
“-He’s slipping!”  
  
“Don’t say it like that, Artemi; he’s just going into shock. You did the same.”  
  
“I didn’t thrash about as much-”  
  
The conversation was lost as black took over Patrick’s vision, the pain finally disappearing.

-xox-

When Patrick’s consciousness finally came back to him, the beeping was much louder, and it hurt his ears. He hissed, and jerked to the right, away from the noise that was so close to his ear, only to fall to the floor. It must have only been a few feet from the floor, maybe three, but it jarred in his bones, making him hiss again. The floor felt like it was tiled – he could feel the soft gaps between the tiles, and they were cold, making him flinch away from it. He shot upright, opening his eyes.  
  
Patrick regretted the decision immediately.   
  
Harsh, synthetic, too-white light abused his eyes, and he immediately screwed them shut, whimpering.  
  
“Hey, he’s awake.”  
  
Patrick spun, hissing at the figure in the doorway, only to find himself crouching on the other side of the bed. Slowly, he stood up, stumbling away from the bed, frowning at the metal contraption, frowning at how quickly he had seemed to move before he was distracted by the light turning off.  
  
“That helps, right?”  
  
Patrick looked around the now almost-black room before he focused on the figure. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and Patrick’s eyes widened as he realised he could see just as well as if the light were on.  
  
“I did the same the first few times; it’s something you just have to get used to.”  
  
“G-Get used to?”  
  
“Oh hey, the newbie’s awake!”  
  
A loud, booming voice assaulted Patrick’s hearing, and he covered his ears, whining a little bit as he did so.  
  
“Shit, sorry. Forgot how sensitive you are when you wake up for the first time.”  
  
Patrick frowned at this new man. He was 6 foot 3, with a crop of neat, brown hair, with a scruff of beard. He had soft, hazel eyes that seemed to stare deep into Patrick’s soul. Hazel eyes with a soft ring of blue around the iris.  
  
Patrick flew back across the room, breathing heavily.  
  
“J-Just let me go, and we don’t have to worry about anything. I won’t hire any hunters, I won’t tell anyone about this place, just let me go home to my family-”  
  
“We checked, and we know you live alone, Patrick. You moved to Chicago and left your family over in Buffalo; you moved here to have a better shot at the NHL and to help support your family more. You moved out so their bills would go down a bit, and you still send them money from every pay check.”   
  
Patrick couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
The two people walked closer, and Patrick found he could focus on the first figure.  
  
Short brown hair, 6 foot? No, 6 foot 1; - Patrick startled himself at how easily he was able to tell the difference of an inch from this far away – a neat beard adorned his face – Patrick realised that he looked young – and his eyes were a soft green-blue... with another ring of darker blue surrounding his iris.   
  
Patrick whimpered as he realised the two _vampyr_ were blocking his exit.  
  
“What do you want? I can’t give you much but I can-”  
  
The taller _vampyr_ threw something across the room, and Patrick wasn’t even aware of reaching out to catch it. He stared at the bag of blood, and his stomach growled.  
  
Patrick dropped the bag.  
  
“Just drink up; it’ll be easier for us to answer your questions that way.”  
  
“I am _not_ drinking blood!”  
  
“You’re going to have to sooner or later.” The smaller _vampyr_ walked forward and jumped up to sit on the bed, reaching over to turn the beeping machine off. “You’re a _vampyr_ now, Patrick, and you have to drink to survive.”  
  
Tears welled up in Patrick’s eyes, and he took a deep breath. He rushed across the large room, only to realise with a jolt that it had only taken a few seconds to cross the 10 foot space.

  
He stared at himself in the mirror, focusing on the thick, red circles around his irises, almost completely covering the soft blue they usually were. He looked back at the two men.  
  
The taller _vampyr_ was trying not to laugh, and Patrick found there were tears in his eyes.  
  
“What did you do to me?”  
  
The _vampyr_ on the bed shook his head and pointed to Patrick’s neck. “We saved your life.”  
  
Patrick took a soft breath and looked back in the mirror. The left side of his neck was covered in ugly wounds, thick black stitching keeping it all together.  
  
“You were attacked by rabid _vampyr-_ ”  
  
“Rabid?”  
  
“Let me explain what happened to you, and then we can go over _vampyr_ , alright?”  
  
Patrick stared at the _vampyr_ on the bed before slowly nodding.  
  
“You were attacked by some rabids. Brent, here,” the _vampyr_ that was still standing waved with a smile, “and I heard you screaming for help. By the time we found you, their ringleader, David, had already fed off you and ripped your throat out. You were going to bleed out. We had to turn you to let you continue living.”  
  
“You turned me into the living dead so I could carry on living?” It was a violent hiss from Patrick’s lips, and he flinched backwards from the two, breathing heavily. “You killed me.”  
  
“Patrick here saved your life.” Brent frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, clearing his throat. “I suggest you drink, before that anger gets the better of you. Then we can take you through to meet the other guys.”  
  
Brent stalked out the room, head held high, and Patrick observed this _vampyr_ Patrick as he smiled. “Yeah, my name’s Patrick, but everyone calls me Sharpy, other than Abby, really.”  
  
“Abby? I remember her voice.”  
  
“She’s my wife; she’s the resident nurse here. She’s the one who saved your life.”  
  
Patrick nodded a little, and then Sharpy was standing, walking towards Patrick, holding the blood bag out. Patrick slowly reached out to take it; the thick liquid inside felt warm, and it made his throat ache. His gums started to twinge in pain, to throb and scream as something hard blossomed underneath them.  
  
“It’s just your fangs. Newbs have fangs for the first few weeks, so you can get easy access to blood,” Sharpy gave a small smile. “Ignore Brent; he hates being around newbs. He finds that they can be quite... arrogant, childish, or like you, just a little ball of anger and upset. He’s trying not to snap at you.”  
  
Sharpy looked around the room, and Patrick frowned. A sense of familiarity washed over him, but then Sharpy was walking away, smiling back at Patrick as he reached the door.  
  
“I’ll let you drink in peace. If you need more than one bag, and I think you will,” Sharpy pointed to a small fridge in the corner of the room. A bloody handprint emblazoned the handle. “Drinking blood is in there.”  
  
Patrick waited for the door to shut, and then he opened his mouth. His gums exploded in pain as his fangs forced their way through. Breathing harshly, he bit into the blood bag.  
  
Instantaneously, he lost who he was and started sucking greedily. Within seconds, the bag was empty, and Patrick found he was knelt by the fridge, ripping another bag from the chilled container.  
  
Four bags later, he collapsed against the wall, staring at the red coating his hands. He could feel the small droplets that were slowly sliding down his chin, and tears welled in his eyes.  
  
He stayed where he was, wrapping his arms around his legs, hugging them to his chest. The tears started tracking down his cheeks, and he buried his face in his knees.  
  
_I’m a fucking monster..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Massive apologies for how long this took! I was having some health issues and so really just focused on two other fandoms and then it took me forever to rewrite what my beta sent back and ugh. So many apologies, I hope I can get the third chapter up quicker than this!_

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr over at i-look-so-good-in-blue.tumblr.com if you want.


End file.
